Celebrating Health

 

For the last two years, I’ve spent my holidays recovering from procedures and surgeries. It’s not been fun or easy. But I’m here. Sitting in my chair writing and looking at the twinkling white lights on my holiday tree. 

I’m alive. Even though some young doctor told me, “You remind me of my mother, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Yeah. Right. Major surgery was required but it took almost a year to get there. 

But I’m here. Now. And today, I’m snacking on homemade shortbread, cherry cake and  chocolate candies. 

Letting the light in. 

Remembering staying up into the wee hours sewing Winnie the Pooh characters into felt tree decorations for my little children. (They officially came from Santa.)

Packing up race cars, paints, books and a very tiny ‘Hungry Caterpillar’ to put under the tree for my children’s little children.

Sighing with relief. All is well. (Maybe not in our country right now). 

But right here. Right now. In my small space on this big planet. 

All is quiet. All is bright. 

And I am well.  

My Christmas wish: For everyone, everywhere to have enough food, warmth and love. 

And Health.

Now that’s really something to celebrate. 

I’m alive. 

And I’m thankful. 

‘

Now that’s really something to celebrate. 

I’m Giving Thanks, Anyway.

 

Normally, I would be writing a piece about thankfulness and gratitude right now. But this year, we all know, there’s a lot of bad stuff happening around us. And I can’t be grateful or thankful for any of it. 

Yet, my deep in my heart, I do feel grateful. Thankful. And hopeful. Go ahead and turn the page or call me crazy, but here it is anyway. 

I am grateful and thankful for:

 

No pain this Thanksgiving. 

Being able to bake sourdough rolls for Tday. 

Making cranberry sauce. 

Walking through my local park with energy to spare. 

Lifting weights again. (Ok they’re only 2lbs, but it’s a start)

Healthy husband, kids, grandkids and doggy. 

Creating in clay, paint, and yarn. (Although not at the same time, but it’s a thought?)

The couple who gave me their kiln and wheel so I could throw and fire clay. 

People who support my creativity with sales and encouraging comments. 

Meeting and sharing the creative journey with other artists and writers. 

Writing here on Blogger and Substack. 

There, I said it. Or rather wrote it anyway.  

Sometimes I just have to do the weird thing. 

Somebody has to, right?

Here’s hoping this day brings you some thankful and grateful things. 

I’d love to hear yours in the comments. 

Rise Above It All

What can you do or I do to lift up ourselves right now?

Rise above it all?

Stay strong and healthy and true?

Health and surgery and recovery are not easy. And they take time. The biggest recovery, I’m discovering is trauma/emotional recovery. I didn’t sign up for any of this, none of us do. It happens. It’s shocking to the core. At first, it takes all you’ve got to get up and deal with the pain.

But, I got up. Walked. Climbed the stairs. My body got stronger. Now, I can do yoga. Lift weights. Carry my 2 year old grandchild. I went back to ‘normal’ life. Or so I thought. But somewhere, in there, is a small scared voice. Will it happen again? Am I really fixed?

The answer: Yes, I am fixed. My body is ‘very healthy’ now according to my PCP. 

Another question: Why then, am I feeling anxious and sad?

Another answer: Because, I’m told, after physical healing comes emotional healing. 

It’s a process. Like life, it’s not always easy. What helps?

One word, one line, one thought at a time.

Art and writing have gotten me through many difficult times: surgery, family abuse and deaths, pandemic fears, job losses and now crazy politics. I journal often because getting my thoughts out on the page helps me release the bad and see the good in my life. 

You don’t have to be a professional writer, like I was at one time, you just have to be honest. Take a pen, some paper and let it all go. Sometimes I use a picture or word to get started. Or you can look out the window, see what catches your eye. Better yet, light a candle, get quiet and listen. Then write it down. No one has to see it or read it but you. You don’t have to keep it either.  

Time for me to show and tell.  

This weekend, I’ll be showing my Lily Vases at “Ceramics Showcase” in the Gallery. Making my Lily vases lifts me up. The feel of the cool clay. Rolling out shapes. Pressing fabric, old earrings, hardware bits into the clay takes focus.

I don’t know why I like making my Lily Vases so much. And I don’t have to know. All I have to do is feel the cool clay and let it help me rise above it all.  

A world where different textures meet

A place where all colors work together 

And individual pieces join

And rise and form a beautiful whole. 

Giving Thanks

 

Sitting here in my nook with the sun peeking in and out of the clouds shining on piles of fall leaves, I sigh. It’s a sigh of relief and gratefulness. I am here. I am alive. I am getting stronger everyday. These are things I used to take for granted. Now I don’t. 

Last month, I was home recovering from major surgery on my colon. Even though I wasn’t able to do much but sit in bed or a chair, I was so thankful to be home. I was so glad that all the infections and pain I’d suffered with in my body for over a year were finally fixed. 

Thankful for great nurses and doctors. 

All of my nurses and aides on the 7th floor west at St. Vincents were wonderful. They were there for me day and night. They delivered more than antibiotics. They delivered kindness and caring and emotional support. They listened to me and shared and chatted with me, too. 

And one night in particular, which I didn’t think I’d get through, they were with me all the way. They came in and out in a steady stream, taking care of me. Their expertise and team work was amazing. They were ‘on it’ at all times. I was terrified and they were calm. That reassurance helped me believe I would be alright. 

My surgeon is a hero in my mind. He saw the problem, at last, and knew how to fix it. And it was not an easy fix. It was a scary scenario but he went in and fixed it all. It was so good to see him pleased with the result. And afterwards, he made sure I got the best post surgical care, too. I give thanks for his expertise everyday. 

Giving thanks for my stubbornness. 

I will start out by saying, it wasn’t easy to get help. I was tossed from one urgent care, express care, nurse practitioner to another. I kept describing my pain and problems and got handed a prescription. Tests were done and some came back positive and most were negative.

Seeing so many different people in different places made it even harder. I was misdiagnosed which made me question the healthcare system. And myself. But I was stubborn. I kept trying to get help. I am thankful for all the antibiotics, they kept me alive. 

And thankfully, finally a CT scan illuminated the problem. And I am now recovering and fine. 

Finally. 

I give many, many thanks:

For a talented surgeon,

The specialists on my surgical team,

All the nurses and aides on St. V 7th floor west,

You saved me, reassured and comforted me,

And shared stories and smiles, one of the best medicines. 

Recovery

 

This word describes so many things in my world right now. Maybe yours too? Unexpected things happen to us and around us over which we have limited or no control. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to not be in control. It’s frustrating and scary. But it’s a place we all know well and if we can share it in our common space, maybe we can find ways to pull through it all together. 

Seasonal lessons.

I am in a season of recovery. I am home from the hospital successfully put back together. I’ve known for many months I needed help. I knew my body’s pain was a message and while I tried to get help, all I got were bandaids in the form of antibiotics. I went from winter to spring to summer and fall asking why I kept having UTI’s. I got no answers.

 

A few weeks ago, a CT scan showed an abscess from last year had never left my body and was leaking bacteria and causing all those UTI’s. The cure was abdominal surgery and reconstruction. I am now ‘fixed’. 

While the trees drop their leaves and prepare to rest through the winter, it is my time to rest as well. It’s hard for me to drop my routines. Pulling and pushing and rolling out clay. Doing yoga. Lifting weights. Picking up my grand baby. But, to recover my strength, I must rest. 

Color therapy. 

The leaves in the park are falling, layering the grass and walkways in layers of color. I love all the gorgeous red, yellow, orange and purple. And even though I don’t like brown, it adds a base for the other colors to shine. 

Like the trees outside, I let my fears and anger and shock and sadness drop like leaves from the past year. I see the layers of branches unseen before like organs in my body, the structures now strong.

As I walk through the park, I drink in the layers of color. I bend myself gently to pick up a few fallen leaves to take home. I play a little with watercolors and pens and yarn. And I read and rest and eat and nap. 

And just as the trees bud in spring, I feel the prickles of nerves searching to unite and flourish once again. 

Searching for answers

And finding none

Be brave 

Time will tell 

And all will be well. 

Fun Moves

 

My word of the year is Move. I picked it because with all the physical and emotional challenges thrown my way last year, I really felt the need to move on. Maybe the truth is I was desperate to move away from all the pain, shock, and fear that dominated my life last year. 

I’ve learned it takes more time to heal than I thought. I’m not a patient person. But looking back, I can see I am moving forward and healing is happening. 

Making is fun. 

I love to make things. Working with my hands is calming and centering and, well fun too. I’m grateful for the chance to create almost everyday. It doesn’t have to be a work of art, either. Baking cookies. Crocheting hats or blankets or pillows. Even making a flower arrangement is fun. 

My husband found his fun this week, too. He’s been building a radio controlled plane! I’m so happy to see him having fun putting together this complicated working plane. 

This week, I had a new idea I wanted to make out of clay. Don’t ask me exactly what they are because I’m not sure what to call them. I just saw it in my mind’s eye and let my hands do the work. I started out just making one but before the week was out, I’d make three. 

Moving from pain to play. 

I’ve still got some health issues to resolve but it’s moving along. At last, I see a bright, sunny light at the end of this difficult tunnel. And I think one of the most important factors in getting well is finding something to do that’s fun. 

Clay is play for me. It’s soothing and quiet and soft. And creating something new from a slab of cool clay is, well, just fun. 

Moving through change is a challenge

It takes time, day by day

To find a way to play

To discover some new fun moves.